


Whatever

by mhunter10



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, mhunter10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:44:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhunter10/pseuds/mhunter10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey doesn't try so hard to ignore Valentine's Day this time around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever

Mickey knows what day it is even before he looks at the calendar, or sees the little date staring at him on his phone. He knew that eventually it would fall on a time when he wasn’t in juvie, so he couldn’t just not acknowledge it by spending it lifting or sleeping. But damn, it came around fast. Even though he has an intense loathing for the holiday and everything about it(the little he knows, which isn’t much), it doesn’t sneak up on him completely. In fact, he’s been spending way too much time thinking about this particular day and what it means… Now that he actually has someone he wants to do something for, and not seriously mess it up on his first real go(the time Ian visited and he didn’t break his jaw through the glass for what he whispered didn’t count). Mickey pulls on his coat, pops the chocolate in his mouth that Mandy left by his door, and walks down the street with a smile on his face.

After all, it’s fucking Valentine’s Day.

It’s Mickey’s day off, but he already knows where he’s going. He’s had this planned for weeks, but he’s still a bit anxious. It’s not going to be a big fucking song and dance, but it’ll be something and that’s what matters, right? He’ll have tried. But there’s no way anyone is ever going to know. He’ll make sure Firecrotch is the last to know. That’s for sure. Mickey shutters to think what it’ll mean when he does put it all together. He’s got to do this carefully, and not like he’s about to puke or turn around and go home…or both. He finally reaches the Kash and Grab and takes a little breath, cursing himself for being such a bitch, before pulling the door open and stepping inside. Speaking of barfing, the first thing Mickey notices is all the red and pink decorations hanging and sticking to everything in sight. He seriously wants to back out and forget he was ever there, but then reminds himself why he is. This is more important than his scarred pupils and gag reflex. There’s several customers in line and shopping, hands full of all the gushy stuff and practically breaking their faces smiling, whether it’s at someone else or to themselves. He skirts around them like he might catch it if he gets too close, and picks up random things as he walks the aisles. He can hear Ian chatting animatedly, smiling easily as he rings up their crap and takes their money. He seems to be radiating the same disease, but Mickey admits it’s way less nauseating coming from him. He reluctantly pulls his eyes away and continues to fake shop until the last customer leaves the store. He casually walks over to the counter.

“Why do people buy all this shit anyway? And all that fucking smiling and couple crap is just stupid.” Mickey says, with just the right amount of believable disgust in his voice.

Ian shrugs. “I kind of like it—” he ignores being called a pansy. “People actually come in here in a good mood and don’t just buy booze and cigarettes. And besides, it’s not about the stuff. It’s about doing something special for someone special.”

“Well, if I see another heart, I’m going to hurl…then stab my eyes out.” Mickey swipes at a dangling Cupid taped to the front of the counter. When an older woman comes in, he picks up a magazine and non-commit tally flips the pages. As Ian hands her her bag, she teases that he “must be a real heartbreaker with that cute face” of his, and Mickey mimes pulling the trigger of a gun to his head. She just looks at him, clutches her purse tighter and leaves. Ian gives him a look. “What?”

“You know, Mick, some people actually do show people they care about them.” Ian says, moving away from the register to put some discarded items back on the shelves. A man sticks his head in the door and frantically asks if they sell flowers, then curses loudly and disappears when Ian says they’re all out.

Mickey realizes he’s still looking at Ian, wondering how exactly he meant what he just said. He knows it was meant to get to him in some way, making a statement about expressing shit to people that matter. He wants to tell him that he’s been driving himself crazy for weeks trying to come up with the perfect way to do that without it being such a big deal. Instead he puts the magazine back and strolls over to where Ian is, grabbing his hand and putting it on his hardening dick. “Well, why don’t you do something special for this, Gallagher?”

Ian gasps at the impulse move, barely keeping a can of soup from tipping off the shelf. Mickey’s grinning at him in that cockily sexy way that always makes him feel slightly annoyed, but mostly horny. He stares at the other boy a minute longer, then eases his hand away, smirking. “Can’t. I’m busy.” He says without any real conviction.

Mickey makes a point of looking left then right, turning his head to see behind him. “You ain’t busy now.” He says in a low voice.

Ian pushes Mickey against the wall of the walk-in fridge and undoes his pants, quickly shoving his hand inside his boxers and touching him. Mickey grunts at the contact, then does the same to Ian. Ian said they had to be quick since today was one of the store’s busiest days, but he didn’t think he would be this quick to the edge. He’s got his fingers pulling on Mickey with slow pumps, but Mickey has him in a full grip stroking wild and fast. He can’t keep from panting and moaning as he feels the heat coming up through him rapidly. He barely has enough time to get his shirt and boxers out of the way before he’s coming in short spurts all down the other boy’s hand. Mickey’s never seen Ian not last long, and he can’t help but chuckle a little as he wipes the sticky substance on a nearby rag. Ian tells him to shut up before he shoves Mickey’s pants and boxers all the way down to his ankles, and gets on his knees in front of him. The teasing grin turns to a look of pleasure, as he dives right in sucking and licking. Mickey groans and sort of pushes himself in further. It’s warm and wet and he’s in deep, so it doesn’t take long until he’s too close to go back. Mickey grabs Ian’s shoulder and he pulls off, continuing to stroke him until he’s spasming and releasing in his hand. Ian looks up and asks, “How was that for special?” but Mickey just rolls his eyes. They fix themselves and walk back to the front of the store.

“I don’t understand why people get those nasty candy hearts, either. They taste like fucking chalk and ink.” Mickey says, like he didn’t just get a blowjob in the middle of their conversation.

“I hate those, but they keep making them. Someone must like them, but I think people just give them as novelties now.” Ian says, putting a few of the little striped boxes near the register. Suddenly the flow of customers has seemed to screech to a halt, and he’s wishing they hadn’t been so quick.

“Why bother?” Mickey asks, not really thinking. He notices that there hasn’t been anyone in the store for a while, and his plan floods back to him. Now would be the perfect time to do what would answer that very question. He can tell his comments have thrown Ian thoroughly off his trail, and he feels kind of bad that it has to be this way. He’s leaning against the counter holding the same magazine in front of his face as before, but he still isn’t reading anything. He glances at the redhead. He seems to be deep in thought about something. Like, not having to pretend this holiday doesn’t exist around the one person he’s dying to give a box of toxic hearts to, and not as a joke. And probably more. He sees this on Ian’s face, but then he looks up and catches him staring with his eyes full of conflicted sadness.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing.” Mickey answers, a little too harshly.

“Well, are you going to buy something, or stand here and harass people all day and bother me?”

“I didn’t seem to be bothering you a few minutes ago back there, but hey. I got better things to do than stick around on my day off for this bullshit.” He motions to all the decorations, then rips a red paper heart from the wall.

It’s now or never, he thinks as he moves around the shop taking his time. He’s afraid he’s done too well making Ian think he doesn’t give a shit, but that’s about to change. He waits until he’s distracted with another customer, before he starts picking up things. When he comes up to the counter, he asks for a pack of cigarettes. Ian rings up a case of beer, chips, the cigs and the magazine and tells him the total. Mickey grabs his bag of stuff, digs in his pocket and smacks a handful of something on the counter, before he takes off out the door. He’s eager to get away before Gallagher’s after him, but he feels relived and a lot embarrassed. Meanwhile, Ian looks at what’s on the counter: a limp ten dollar bill, a crumpled piece of red paper, and a small cherry-flavored lollipop shaped like a heart. He opens the piece of paper and realizes it’s the heart Mickey tore down moments ago. Ian smiles widely and runs out the door to catch Mickey. He’s just standing on the sidewalk like he’s debating whether the empty street is safe to cross.

“So, I guess this is like a Valentine’s gift?” He asks, just like the time he mentioned Mickey coming to see him at work was like a booty call. He grins at the memory, as he stands in the exact spot.

Mickey smiles, knowing he’s pulled off his plan perfectly, but changes it to an uninterested frown when he turns to meet Ian’s smug but too-happy look. He zips his coat up and begins to walk away. “Whatever. See ya.”


End file.
